


In the heart of the night

by CalumSmiles (dreamforlife)



Series: Accidentally on purpose [2]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Muke walk in on something, Tattoos, silly idiots in love, so cute you'll have rotted teeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 19:04:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10770516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamforlife/pseuds/CalumSmiles
Summary: “I thought you’d left,” Ashton says quietly as he walks towards him, voice catching. “Cal, I—” He chokes, stumbling over his own feet then, hands cradling Calum’s arm. The songs bursts into the chorus. His voice cracks with a quaking noise. “Oh my god—”Looking back on the things I’ve doneI was trying to be someoneI played my part, kept you in the darkNow let me show you the shape of my heart~~~~~Or, Calum gets another tattoo as an apology. Ashton has no idea what to say except "I love you". Michael and Luke have a great many memories collected for whenever they decide to get married.





	In the heart of the night

**Author's Note:**

> So like. Yeah. I was listening to "Shape of My Heart" by the Backstreet Boys and this happened. ALL I REALLY WANTED WAS CASHTON SLOW DANING TO THE SONG BUT THIS CAME OUT INSTEAD.
> 
> Anyway, here's a continuation of impulsive Calum gets a tattoo.
> 
> Enjoy!!!
> 
>  
> 
> Note: I do not give permission for this to be reposted anywhere. So please, if you see it anywhere except archive, let me know.

The sigh curls out, light and frosty despite the muggy warmth of the air around Calum, as if the icy armour of guilt spreading across his heart had crawled into his lungs. His thumb rubs slowly over the initials on his wrist as he sits outside on the patio, knees pulled up to his chest, chin resting on his arms where they were wrapped tight around his legs. The steady pulse under the tattoo anchors him as he tries not to let himself give into the temptation of drifting away on the wind tugging on his hood.

 _Come,_ it calls him, brushing cool fingers through his messy fringe. _Your worries have no way to follow._

The sharp sting of teeth biting into his lip forces his eyes open and he takes a slow, shuddering breath as he watches the sway and twirl of trees in the light of the waning moon. It’s probably past two a.m. and the house is silent behind him, almost expectant, like a therapist listening to his longing sighs and pained ache of his chest. Below him, the tiers of the lagoon pool spreads, the quiet hush of the small waterfall dancing to the wind’s peaceful melody and the whisper of river rush.

It makes Calum smile for a moment, this tranquillity as it settles into his bones, lips tugging upward as he watches the night unfold around him. The blinking glow of fireflies like earth-bound stars, the tidal flow of the crickets’ symphony, the perfect reflection of the crescent moon on the water.

It’s nights like these that make Calum appreciate being alive. Lets him appreciate the splendour of his life, the breathless ache of being in love.

The thought makes another unwitting smile pull at his mouth before the memory of previous day sours the ecstasy bubbling under his skin with the ripple of shame, of guilt.

He knows he shouldn’t push Ashton away when the world just becomes too much, when the weight of their careers drives him chest-deep into the ground and leaves him gasping for breath. But he can’t help it these days.

They had argued yesterday.

There are very few things that Calum truly _hates_ in the world. Hatred had gotten exhausting as they became popular, too many variables, too many voices to listen to. But out of the short list, arguing with Ashton is in the top three. He hates it. He hates the way the spark in Ashton’s hazel eyes shifts, becomes defiant and sharp instead of the usual sparkle like the flicker of firelight on water. He hates the way he can’t stop himself from talking back, shouting as irritation licks lightning through his veins, throwing in meaningless words as guilt churns in his stomach.

They had argued yesterday because Calum couldn’t gather his rabbiting heartbeat to verbalise his terrified thoughts and Ashton had stormed off to bed with a crumbling scowl that left a bitter taste in Calum’s mouth.

_I don’t want to talk!_

_You look like you need to talk, c’mon, it’s—_

_I’m fucking fine, Ashton!_

_…yeah, right. Fine. Whatever._

He thinks that it’s probably a good thing that Michael and Luke are supposed to arrive tomorrow night because Calum plans to fix this by the time they do. Because another thing he hates is seeing their faces when they realise that he and Ashton have fought about something, the snap-flicker of their eyes between them, the _yeah you take Ashton and I’ll take Calum our parents can’t fight like this_ decision they make without speaking a word to each other.

The sound of crickets crescendo until a sudden, startling silence falls.

Calum’s lower lip is bitten raw but there’s a heat in his stomach and a certainty in his movements as he rubs a firm thumb over Ashton’s initials on his wrist.

A plan falls slowly into place.

 

*

 

In the bright sunlight of North California, Calum walks back down the long driveway to their rented holiday house and wonders if this whole love thing had made him lose his mind. He had snuck out of the house while a silent Ashton had been doing laps in the pool and afterwards, he’d asked the cabbie to drop him at the top of the drive. To give him time to process the most recent impulsive decision he’s made. Because this makes two in four weeks.

He takes a deep breath, breathing in the scent of warm sunshine and pine needles, looking down at his arm, and laughs quietly as he walks. The tattoo is…not subtle. But after getting Ashton’s initials done, anything else would only be subtler than that blatant neon sign that screamed _I’m in love with my best friend_. The towering redwoods whisper their amusement above him as the breeze spins its tall tales, shafts of sunshine streaming between thick trunks to bathe Calum in gold.

His heart is thunder against his ribcage as he steps into the house with all the silence and grace he can draw from within himself, the click of the door gentle, the slip of his socked feet on the hardwood floors a soft hush.

It’s mid-afternoon now, only a couple of hours since Calum had left. The shower is running upstairs and Calum shoots a shocked smile upward, as if Fate would appreciate it. As if there were some unearthly forces at work, helping him to fix the mess he’d made. _Well, whatever it is, he’s grateful._  

Calum shrugs off his jacket and steals into the living room to set-up. The light blush hasn’t left his cheeks since the tattoo gun had touched his skin, in the crook of his elbow on his right arm, the same arm as the initials. The tattoo artist had commented on the blooming flush, teased him with an arched eyebrow as Calum had spluttered out an unconvincing explanation for the tattoo.

“Whoever bagged such a pretty thing like you is lucky,” the man had said when he had finished, grinning. “It was nice to meet you, man.”

Calum groans a little now, lingering tendrils of embarrassment making him squirm.

The shower shuts off, silence echoing through the house suddenly, and he freezes in the middle of hooking up his phone to the speakers they had brought from LA.

_Fuck._

Go hard or go home. Ride or die.

He counts slowly to ten, tries to bring his heart back down to earth, and as footsteps thud on the stairs, Calum takes a deep breath.

Ashton flies into the room like the aftermath of a summer tornado, hair messy and wet, tumbling into his eyes, threadbare shirt hanging off his shoulders, just-too-tight shorts hugging his thighs. The swim and the exercise looks good on him, flushed and bright, refreshed. The shadows chase their way into his eyes when he sees Calum standing there, throat bobbing as he falters, swallowing, hesitation clear in the waver of his mouth.

Standing here now, bathed in the wash of light from the double French doors, Ashton is everything Calum has ever dreamed of and he loves him so much he can’t breathe.

“Hey,” Calum says softly after a moment.

Ashton blinks, gaze flitting around the room, curious and shuttered. “Hey,” he murmurs belatedly, like he’s unsure what page Calum is suddenly on.

Calum reaches behind him and presses play. His heart thuds a little as the familiar melody spills out of the speaks. Ashton’s eyes widen. Red spots bloom over his cheekbones. Calum bites his lip on the smile that threatens to spill out.

 

_Baby, please try to forgive me_

_Stay here, don’t put out the glow_

 

“I’m sorry for yesterday,” he says as the song builds in the background, rolling his shoulders back. “It gets too much for me sometimes. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

 

_Hold me now don’t bother if every minute it makes me weaker_

_You can save me from the man that I’ve become, oh yeah_

 

Ashton is watching him with those wide, beautiful hazel eyes like he still can’t believe what’s going on. “You…what are you doing? Wait—why did you leave without telling me?”

Calum does smile then, ducking his head to laugh as he scratches the back of his head. “I had something to do.” He lifts his head, holding out his arm so that the clear wrap around his upper forearm catches the light. “I…have a look.”

“I thought you’d left,” Ashton says quietly as he walks towards him, voice catching. “Cal, I—” He chokes, stumbling over his own feet then, hands cradling Calum’s arm. The songs bursts into the chorus. His voice cracks with a quaking noise. “Oh my _god—”_

 

_Looking back on the things I’ve done_

_I was trying to be someone_

_I played my part, kept you in the dark_

_Now let me show you the shape of my heart_

 

Calum’s stomach is in knots, an almost watery laugh bursting out of him as Ashton stares, dumbfounded, at his arm. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I _love you,_ I just—I need you to be sure of that, okay, that I…I will always love you. My heart beats to the rhythm of your drums.”

 

_Sadness is beautiful, loneliness that’s tragical_

_So help me I can’t win this war, oh no_

_Touch me now, don’t bother if every second it makes me weaker_

_You can save me from the man I’ve become_

 

He can feel the hot flush in his cheeks, the tips of his ears burning like the glowing ember of a tree struck by lightning, as the words tumble out of him. _Jesus god, could he get anymore cheesy that this?_ Ashton’s grip on his arm is tight, bordering painful as he slowly tears his eyes off the heartbeat tattoo with the embedded drum kit stylised in the middle of it.

His eyes are shining, the inner corners glistening as they catch the sunlight. “You _idiot,”_ Ashton says and his tone is strangled, choked by the weight of emotion behind it, and he yanks Calum in, pulling him in tight into a hug that steals every breath from Calum’s lungs. “You idiot,” he whispers again.

Calum wraps his arms tight around his boyfriend, face pressed hard into the muscle of Ashton’s shoulders. He can feel Ashton’s heart beating against his chest, just as fast as his, and he tries to swallow the clench of tears in his throat, tries to push back the wetness lining his lids but fails and laughs them into Ashton’s neck.

 

_I’m here with my confession_

_Got nothing to hide no more_

_I don’t know where to start_

_But to show you the shape of my heart_

 

Ashton is the one that starts swaying them to the music, still caught up in the hug, trying to pull Calum in by the waist like they can become one person, and Calum tightens his arms around Ashton’s neck and falls into the rhythm of the music. They’re _dancing._ Slow dancing to The Backstreet Boys. This isn’t how he imagined it going but Calum is so, _so_ in love with this stunning, endearing idiotic sap and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

_Looking back on the things I’ve done_

_I was trying to be someone_

_I played my part, kept you in the dark_

_Now let me show you the shape of my heart_

 

Ashton melts into his arms as the song lingers, warm and beautiful and languid, shuffling them over the floor in a small circle, chin on Calum’s shoulder. Their legs are tangled, movements restricted, but Calum has a glowing ember flare in his stomach and champagne in his veins and he grins as it comes spilling out of him, pushing it into Ashton’s neck.

 

_Looking back on the things I’ve done_

_I was trying to be someone_

_I played my part, kept you in the dark_

_Now let me show you the shape of my heart_

 

Calum loses track of time, muscles loose and mind at peace. Ashton’s breathing is warm against his ear, this thumbs light as they brush against Calum’s back. As the last chorus comes, Ashton pulls back but only enough to lift his hands to Calum’s face, cupping the back of his head, beautiful eyes caught on Calum’s as he sings the last verse to Calum.

 

_Looking back on the things I’ve done_

_I was trying to be someone_

_I played my part, kept you in the dark_

 

 _“Now let me show you the shape of my heart,”_ Ashton murmurs, fingers brushing tingling trails over his cheeks. _“Show you the shape of my heart.”_

As silence falls like a warm blanket, Calum rests their foreheads together and breathes, fingers slipping to grip Ashton’s hips. “I love you.”

Ashton’s small smile settles in the hollow of his chest. “I know. I love you too,” he says and kisses his cheek. “Talk to me, alright? Just like we did before we started this whole thing. We’re still the same.”

Calum doesn’t become a useless pile of goo.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “We are.”

Ashton presses forward for a kiss, lips bitten but warm and sure, tongue teasing and Calum opens his mouth to him, tangling his fingers in Ashton’s shirt.

“Just so you know,” a familiar, amused voice comes from behind Ashton, “we’re here.”

Calum pulls out of Ashton’s arms, startled, and looks towards the doorway to find Michael and Luke leaning against either side of it, shit-eating grins on their faces. Luke has his phone held up.

“Oh, fuck me,” he mutters, rubbing his forehead.

Michael’s laugh is wicked, grey-green eyes sparkling. “That was beautiful, I almost _cried,_ Cal.”

“Whatever just happened, I have some insane pictures for your wedding montage,” Luke says, lowering his phone with a grin. “Should we just go back to LA? I think y’all are doing enough _reconnecting_ for all of us. Oh and, speaking of reconnecting, can you give me a list of all the places you’ve fucked in this house? Just so I know which ones to avoid.”

Ashton dives for the nearest cushion and throws it at Luke’s head with a resonating growl, and Luke lets out a blood-curdling scream, sprinting out of the room with Ashton hot on his heels.

Michael shakes his head as he walks over to Calum, a spring in his step. “So, what as all that about?”

Calum just holds out his arm, new tattoo facing up, and rolls his eyes when Michael chokes on his own spit and starts coughing wildly.

Luke’s panicked screeching drifts to them and they see him go hurtling past the patio doors as Ashton chases him. The tell-tale explosion of a splash comes from the bottom of the garden and Calum throws an arm over Michael’s shoulders as they follow the sound of Ashton’s smug cackles.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, beautiful people, please leave a comment because I am alive for them and I live off them and I always write more when I have comments. Yell/cry/cry some more @ me!! 
> 
> Thank you for reading, I love you all!!! xxx
> 
>  
> 
> Note: I do not give permission for this to be reposted anywhere. So please, if you see it anywhere except archive, let me know.


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